The Anarchist
by SinnamonGirl
Summary: Set shortly after Stardate 2821.5 and the episode "The Galileo Seven." Bones reveals feelings Kirk would prefer to keep hidden.


Set shortly after Stardate 2821.5 and the episode "The Galileo Seven." Bones reveals feelings Kirk would prefer to keep hidden.

The Anarchist

The ship – _his_ ship – hung in space. Its silver-white flanks flashed as if the constellation Pegasus was suddenly fleshed and stamping, blowing impatient breaths from fiery nostrils. Though space was mostly darkness, Captain James T. Kirk imagined light clamoring to the craft, defecting from the underside of planets and abandoning stars to desolation. Only the running lights were on and in the background he could hear the hum of his two favorite voices in all galaxies.

They were arguing, of course.

When it came to his chief medical officer and second in command, Kirk chose to treat debate as an expression of affection. Spock was saying how illogical Bones had been in choosing to save his life during a recent mission. Letting Spock lay out his evidence, the doctor leaned back with his hands behind his head, brandy before him on the table. When McCoy finally spoke, his voice had recovered some of its accent – all slow brown water. The Vulcan estimated his blood alcohol content at .07.

"Saving your scrawny hide didn't have anything to do with logic, or even duty." He glared at the Vulcan to emphasize a point. "Or even_ you_." He gestured then and in the memory of James T. Kirk that gesture would always be that of a gentle and absentminded bomb thrower. "I did it for Jim here."

A single dark eyebrow made a move toward the ceiling before Spock surprised the doctor by siding with him. "I understand. And though I agree that it would be difficult to find a science officer with my qualifications, I believe that Starfleet would quickly supply the Captain with a replacement."

Without the lubricating properties of brandy, Bones was certain that that cool, eternally practical voice would have set him to grinding his teeth. "Not for the _ship_. Though there are no science officers like you," (the familiar phrase "you pointy eared hobgoblin," went unsaid). "For _Jim_. If I beamed back without you, Jim here would have spent his life and command grieving a love unrequited. Grieving to _me_. I can't afford that much brandy."

_Doctors should know their limits_, thought Jim. "Bones!" he cautioned. But the damage was done. _Assess damage. Salvage something. _

Spock was regarding him with onyx eyes gone smoky with the emotions that never entered his voice. "Captain?"

A breath, a pause, a heart breaking.

"Jim?"

A half-human Vulcan who had served for years with humans, Spock was more than capable of reading facial expressions. Before Jim could even call his name, he had melted away like a shadow.

On his feet to fly after his friend, a very pale James Kirk took the time to whirl on McCoy. "Bones! Do you know how hard I had to work to earn his trust? Do you know how much it took to become _his friend_?"

He heard the yearning, the pain. Off duty, he ignored it. "Dammit, Jim! I'm tired of watching you two tap dance around each other. I'm a doctor, not a choreographer!"

He wanted to argue. He wanted to lift his fists and fight. He wanted a ship-wide emergency that would send them into Red Alert. But he wanted to see Spock more. He whirled and started in the direction that his friend had gone.

His handprint was coded to open Spock's door, but he wanted to give his friend the opportunity to turn him away. A moment after he drew back from knocking, he was looking into dark eyes. "Come in, Captain."

The title made him flinch, but he entered into the over-warm space and gifted Spock with an apologetic smile. "I wasn't sure you'd want to see me. I half expected to find you working on a transfer request."

"As your second in command, it would be illogical to avoid you, Captain. And I have no wish to depart from the _Enterprise_."

It was all too calm for a heart that felt caught on barbed wire. "Do you… do you understand what happened?" It was all he could think to ask.

"I do."

Ceremonial words. Even in this context, they stole his vision and his breath. "I imagine it would be an illogical and undesirable arrangement. You can say whatever you need to say, but we won't speak of it again. It won't interfere with our professional relationship. Or our friendship, I hope."

A moment passed and he found himself staring into that cool, impassive face as if to see himself. It was like trying to riddle truth from sea ice. Finally, Spock spoke. "If that is your desire, Captain, then I defer to your superior judgment in such matters. I have had few relevant encounters that can guide me here. However, the course you have outlined is not the one which I desire."

Though the golden braid still gleamed at his wrists and though the Starfleet sigil remained on his chest, Captain James T. Kirk found himself off-balance, shaken at soul. "But you said you didn't want to leave the _Enterprise_, right? You no longer want to be friends?" The words, spoken aloud, seemed to sound a death knell for his heart and all of its wishes.

"Captain."

"Jim. Please. Jim." _Even if you never say my name again, Spock, say it now._

"Of course. Jim. I merely sought to gain your attention. Your feelings were not unknown to me. Regardless of our medical officer's intentions, no revelation occurred this night."

His lungs drew tight and he could only manage to force out a single word, "How?"

"A pace. A glance. The flash of your throat as you drew a breath."

Though he had loved Spock for what felt like half an age, Kirk had never considered this. A being who could read your own betraying body – those keen eyes catching the slightest dilation of the pupils, those _ears_ hearing your breath accelerate as he stood near at your elbow… it was a great deal to take in. "Spock, you never gave me a single sign."

A dark eyebrow lifted – itself a kind of sign. "I was unsure of how to proceed. Vulcan courtship lacks the romance of human courtship, and you are the Captain, accustomed to command decisions. I surmised that you might wish to lead. But I do not, as you suggest, find our match illogical." He held his eyes, let his next words gather significance. "Or undesirable."

Jim spent a moment blinking, dazed. Through a haze of emotions, he hoped that the annual battery of tests that would certify him fit for command was not scheduled anytime soon. He was going to need time to recover.

"And though I dislike the doctor's meddling, if he is correct in suggesting that you wish to be my mate, then it is what I also desire."

Jim saw his friend smile behind his face.

"It I what I have long desired."

Neat. Someone was playing with the atmospheric controls. All of the oxygen was gone.

When the Captain could breathe again he asked, "How long?"

"Ah, the human propensity for narrative…"

Jim gaped, broke into a grin. "Mr. Spock, did you just make a joke?"

"An observation, actually. But there is an undeniable pleasure connected with seeing your smile."

He felt himself almost begin to glow and Spock saw light come into his golden brown eyes. _Vulcan compliments. I could get to like this. _"How long?"

A faint green blush summered behind ivory cheekbones. "Exactly 311 days."

"That's quite a long time."

"Indeed. I attribute the swift change in my relations to you to your particular characteristics. You are brave and clever, a skilled captain. You care deeply for those under your command and would give your own life to protect them. Finally, your efforts to secure my friendship were impossible to turn from."

_I intrigued you, then. Made you curious._ "I'm flattered."

"I have stated only facts, Jim."

He smiled, pleased that Spock seemed to know that he needed to hear his name and, hearing it, know that he could be more than an officer to this lovely creature with his supple mind and noble soul. It was that soul that had drawn him in from the beginning. Shining out from dark eyes, he had known Spock to be incorruptible, intelligent, gentle, curious; he had wanted to draw such integrity to himself, to protect it always, to ease pains that Spock had never even voiced. Half-human and half Vulcan, he knew Spock had long sought a proper place. _You belong with me. At my side. Always._ Wanting to make Spock aware of his newfound place in his arms, he reached out. "May I?"

The Vulcan recognized that it was very unlike a human to ask permission for something so simple as a touch, and Spock felt everything within him lift up, surging toward his shields, wanting to ally itself with this man he had called friend. "Yes."

Spock's eyes closed, lashes coming down on pale cheeks like wings. Kirk saw him shudder under his hands. "What is it? Did I do something wrong?" Longing for Spock, he'd raided McCoy's medical library to learn what he could of Vulcan physiology. _Maybe I should have made a more thorough study… _

Spock's voice had deepened, gotten rough, like velvet rubbed against the grain. "There is such a deep well of joy in you. Like a golden light."

_Touch telepath. Right. _He drew him close, holding tight, hands slipping as he struggled to grip the tunic of his uniform. "I thought I lost you on that damn planet."

"When I lit that fuse, it was my hope that you would see." The rest was said in Vulcan, but Jim understood it anyway, the words coming clear and true in a voice that vibrated his heart. "As I died, I wished to hold the image of your face in my mind."

_You've made me into something beyond myself. Something sacred. _

Wishing to gift some part of himself to Spock that would outlast death and darkness, he dared the long, pale column of the Vulcan's throat, pressing lips to pulse. That life-song fluttered beneath his mouth and made Kirk want to laugh with joy. Bending back beneath the kiss, Spock managed to bark out a command that would engage the privacy settings on his quarters.

Jim smiled against his best friend's skin, flattered at the sudden change of timbre. "I'll bet that door has never heard you sound like that. It will probably call McCoy." He often joked about the _Enterprise_'s sentience; after all, if he didn't shut down his morning alarm, the ship _did_ call Sickbay.

Recovering a little, Spock let his long fingers draw back to rest on his partner's hips as he noted, "I believe that the doctor would say something about the sight of the two of us like this compromising the functionality of his retinas."

Jim laughed; Spock's translation of Terran phrases was always priceless; even the taste and the warmth of his skin didn't change that. _I never imagined that my sex life would include laughter; being with you is still comfortable. You remain my friend. _It was all that he could have wished.

Almost all.

"His loss. I want to see more of you."

The words came bold, brave – a Star Captain's words. They were the kind of words he had always used with his conquests. He knew in a second that they were not the right words for this. Spock was his equal, his counterpart, a true companion. He laid his hand along the side of the Vulcan's face, fingers coming to rest under his eyes in an echo of the motion Spock made before a meld. "I'm sorry. I'm pushing. Rushing."

They were close enough that he could see the fine crinkles around Spock's eyes. They were beautiful to Kirk, evidence that the smiles that did not show on his lips had not died, but merely migrated. "I have not voiced an objection, Jim."

Kirk prodded at him with an elbow. "Or a wish." _Carry me across this threshold, Spock. Take me through this door._ "You've given me my way so often, my generous friend."

There was such innocence is Spock's face when he next looked at him that Kirk was taken back to his words about a lack of "relevant encounters." _Dear heart, when was the last time you were touched? _"You do not wish to have your way here? Now?"

Desire flashed through him and left his nerve ends tingling, aching for touch. He was being tempted, teased.

Kirk knew how to return fire, of course. He knew how to enter into a verbal dance with Spock (McCoy had been accurate enough with his metaphors); he could tease the Vulcan about his seeming lack of logic, about how humans were always torn between wanting and having.

Instead, he abandoned all of the beauty that could be found in the graceful turn of a phrase to offer a truth as vast and as awing as space. "I love you, Spock."

Spock took a single step back (the Vulcan equivalent of "starting," Kirk decided) but his eyes were shining. "Jim…"

"I love you, my friend. Your strong heart, your brilliant mind, the soul I see in your eyes. I love you. And I wish to do whatever I can – whatever _you_ wish – to convince you, to make you certain."

The next part was easy.

It _was_ like dancing, those few steps from the center of the room to the bed buried in covers. Kirk could never be sure if those over-warm hands moved over his skin first, removing the gold command tunic, accepting him, or if _his_ own hands won out first against Spock's tunic and the two black undershirts beneath it. "I'm glad it's your room," he told the Vulcan as they lay sprawled together; the air was warm on his naked skin. "We won't be cold."

Spock had imagined there would be urgency. He had touched his friend's mind before; Kirk's personality was dynamic, vital. _Like the skyfire I once saw dancing down over the red cliffs of my home_. The thought was uncharacteristically poetic but he did not struggle to suppress it or push back against such atypical phrasing. He had expected the presence of this long-loved human to work changes in him. His shields lowered, he used touch to access Kirk's feelings and cocked his head in surprise. "You are so _calm_." Kirk laughed and the Vulcan felt his mirth enter his chest as vibration. _What begins in you ends in me_…

"I would say 'happy,' Spock," Jim said, tilting his head so that he could meet his eyes. Smile giving away his intent to tease, he dropped into more formal language. "Does your observation indicate that you did not expect 'calm' to be part of our joining, Mr. Spock?" Laughing lights danced in his eyes, bright flashes amongst all the gold. "Have you collected data that suggests otherwise?"

The next few moments would always hold a special place in the captain's recollections. Spock completely gave himself away. Green flares went off underneath his skin and he dropped his eyes so that his long lashes lay against his cheeks. And if that low, rumbling voice (a voice that had always had the ability to make Kirk close his eyes in pleasure) had possessed the ability to mumble, James Kirk was certain that it would have done so. "I have… heard stories."

Jim shook his head at him. "You're telling me that my brilliant Vulcan science officer has been listening to _rumors_?" A smile still curved his mouth. This was as delicious as the sight of Spock's naked chest, as the Vulcan's lips bright and wet with the attentions of his loving tongue.

The Vulcan equivalent of a blush intensified. "I admit that secondhand data is unreliable and should not have had an effect on my perceptions of you."

"But?" Jim could hear the 'but.'

"Humans talk so freely and,"

"You have these beautiful ears," Kirk interjected, lifting himself off of Spock's chest to stroke the tapering edges. When he saw that the gesture made Spock close his eyes he filed it away for use in the very near future.

"Yes. I hear many things that I do not intend to. Furthermore, to gain my attention it seemed that all one of the crewmen had to do was speak your name. I admit that I still do not understand this effect fully. I did not wish to ask Dr. McCoy."

They shared a look at the mention of the physician's name and Jim's smile shifted, grew rueful. He wasn't sure where he stood with regard to McCoy right at this moment. On one hand, he was furious that his good friend would speak aloud the great secret of his heart. On the other, he was now in Spock's bed – the one place he'd never believed he would find a welcome. McCoy would wait. For now, the turn of Spock's mind (to say nothing of the many curves of his half naked body) was proving (to borrow a popular term) fascinating. "I was on your mind."

"Yes," Spock admitted. "You believe that this accounts for my increased aural sensitivity?"

"Uh-huh."

Kirk had his own brand of "aural sensitivity."

In the earliest days of his captaincy, crewmembers would occasionally make remarks about his half-human best friend. Most had been simple curiosity. "What is it like to be something that doesn't feel?" one bright-eyed yeoman had asked once, sending Kirk into a barely-restrained fury. "He feels!" he'd cried out inside of his mind. "And _so much more_ than you if you can ask something as unfeeling as that!" He didn't understand why people misread Spock so much. The Vulcan might maintain an icy exterior but those _eyes_… The smile in those eyes had blinded Kirk so many times that he'd jokingly thought about adding a protective visor to his uniform. Couldn't people see that Spock was honoring his heritage? He didn't expect them to notice the rest; he doubted many people had made as thorough a study of Spock as he had. Beyond living up to the Vulcan ideal, Kirk had long suspected that the shields Spock maintained had been erected _against_ cruel jibes, against curiosity, against all he had suffered as a being split between two words. Though Kirk could not undo that suffering, he had done all he could to make the _Enterprise_ a space of acceptance. And now that friendship had become love, he would try to give Spock the welcome that neither Vulcan nor Earth had offered. _You belong here. You belong with me. _

Now to make sure that Spock knew it. Framing the sharp angles of the Vulcan's face with a gentle hand, he pushed him to reveal how those rumors had "changed his perceptions.""I can guess what you heard, Spock." _I know it hurt you_. "Will you believe me now if I say it wasn't true? You know what happens when things get too quiet around here. People latch onto anything, they make things up. Especially about officers. We're something like celebrities on our ships, whether we want to be or not. I know you wouldn't see it as logical, but it _is_ human. You said you could tell I had feelings for you. I wouldn't dishonor those feelings by bringing someone else into my bed, Spock. I haven't, since I realized how I felt for you." His fingers traced the pale flesh beneath the Vulcan's dark eyes. "I'll meld with you if you want. You can see the truth."

This man was always going to surprise him. The alleged relationships of his captain had stirred fierce (and quickly suppressed) emotions in him, but he knew it was illogical to believe that an emotional and social being would remain alone. Yet, Jim was claiming to have done so, was holding himself up so that he could touch his fingers to the meld points and see to the very center of his being. "T'hy'la…"

He had believed it before. As he spoke it, it became true.

"I don't know what that means, but I think that I am honored that you said it to me, just the same."

"I will show you, Jim." His long fingered hand stopped on the air. "If you were quite serious about the meld, that is."

Laughter, again. The Vulcan was surprised at how comforting he found the sound/sensation of his friend's – his _t'hyl'a's_ – laughter. The joyful noise seemed to enclose them in a world of their own and to say that no pain or danger could touch them while they lay together this way.

"Spock, I'm half-naked and more than half-hard for you. You can lose some of the formality and stop pretending you don't know me well enough to know when I'm being serious."

He admitted himself caught with a nod that Jim read as sheepish, then brushed the hair back from his face in a gesture of such tenderness that the Captain almost gasped. He'd seen hundreds of worlds and been in situations that no Academy training manual had ever covered, but Spock could always make him feel brand new, make his eyes fill with shooting stars.

Then Spock spoke the ritual words and they were joined, the fierce, bright, vast expanses of the Vulcan's mind spread out before him like a personal frontier and his inner self near to cartwheeling with the bliss of it. He understood, now, the name that Spock had given to him and he answered with the core of his self, answered with all of him screaming "Yes!" out to ring the stars that shone beyond the walls of the _Enterprise_.

Given such an answer, Spock guided him into a sort of bond that seemed more "shallow" than the first. It was like floating in warm water under a golden sky, Kirk thought at first, but then he felt the Vulcan's fingers twine with his and all comparisons fell away under the force of that touch.

_The kiss of my people_, he heard Spock say in his mind – and perhaps outside of it, too.

_Intense_, he thought or said back, winning something that felt like laughter.

_You touched me so often, t'hy'la, that I thought you must have known something of it._

Spock's other hand was at work on the fastenings at his waist now, and he could hear himself gasping outside of the meld with eagerness for his touch. _Are you… are you accusing me of teasing you, Mr. Spock_?

_I am inclined to believe that you made the attempt, Captain_.

It was fun, Kirk reflected, the way that they knew each other well enough to play in the hearts of their minds even as their bodies throbbed with the intensity of it. He directed his inner self again toward his friend, knowing that Spock knew all that he felt even without the words but wanting to gift them to him in spite of the knowledge. _I am grateful for your friendship, Spock. More grateful, perhaps than you know. _

Long fingers wrapped around him in a caress, stroking so expertly that Kirk knew that his science officer had done research somewhere along the way in anticipation of this moment. Imagining Spock turning his dark eyes from an anatomy text to his fingers, imagining him shaping them on the air as if around his heavy sex, was enough to make him curl up on himself in pleasure.

That perfect voice – velvet and dark as the places between the stars – sounded again in his mind. _I would have your gratitude extend beyond friendship, my dear one._

Surrendering himself in ways he never imagined himself capable of, he smiled with his whole being. _You've got it, Spock. _

Leonard McCoy awoke with his chin curled under him at a bizarre angle and the distinct feeling that something had taken up residence inside of his mouth… then discourteously died, without a thought to his comfort or his status as CMO on the most elite ship in the fleet. Mingling a curse and a groan in the same casual manner he'd mingled whiskey and rum the night before, he rose as far as his knees.

The memory hit him like a phaser blast fired by some cavalier figure that had never heard of "stun," and he fell back into a heap with a shamed gasp. _I couldn't have… didn't… wouldn't have…_ It was a lie, entire. Worse than that – he knew it. He brought a hand to his fevered brow and squeezed, wanting to hold back everything, wanting the blackness of sleep or of something deeper. As the medical officer, he was responsible for more than the mere physical welfare of his charges – especially the officers, on which so much depended. He had betrayed his best friend and his commanding officer, to say nothing of that stubborn creature who was both friend and sparring partner. _What have I done_?

It was a question that needed no answer. What he _would_ have to decide was what he would do next, what he would do now. Forcing himself to rise, shower, and dress, Leonard McCoy set about composing the most difficult and shameful document of his life. When it was finished, he glanced around the room. Shrugging angrily, he decided that packing would have to wait. After all, he wouldn't be disembarking until they reached a starbase. From there, he could return to civilian life. The very idea set bile rising into his throat. _You did this_, he reminded himself, internal voice cold and cruel. _You and your fool mouth_. He left Scotty's booze out of the equation; the amber brew was harmless enough in its bottles.

Opening the door to his quarters, the first thing that struck Captain James T. Kirk was the high gloss of the medical officer's boots. He hadn't seen Bones in something with so high a shine since… He scratched his head, searching his memory. He'd _never _ seen it. "Bones?"

Standing stiffly, military bearing practically radiating from every sinew and bone, the _Enterprise_'s CMO produced a PADD. Leonard McCoy was not a man given to silences; the deep quiet had already unsettled Kirk. The PADD did the rest and he put his entire self into shifting the situation, handing the offending bit of technology back without even glancing at its contents. "Get rid of it, Bones. It's not necessary."

"Captain, what I did…"

Bones had a tendency to overlook rank – even when it belonged to a senior officer. In his medical labs, he was judge, jury, lord and confessor – regardless of all his claims that he was only a doctor. The use of his title told Kirk that this wasn't about to end quickly or easily. Well, the good doctor had shocked him enough the night before. _Turnabout is fair play_, thought Kirk.

"Bones, why don't you come in a minute?"

"Captain…"

He ignored the protest, heard only snippets about "necessary" and "Star Fleet procedure." Bones was keeping a tight leash on himself; he hadn't "damned" him once.

"What do you want me to say, Jim? It's inexcusable, what I did to the two of you,"

Jim cut off his moment of self pity by dramatically stepping aside and giving the medical officer a view of his much rumpled bed… and the sleeping Vulcan in it. They'd migrated to Jim's room when Spock's quarters had proven too warm – abandoning one disheveled bed for a neatly made one (neatly made for awhile anyway).

It wasn't nearly as elating as joining with Spock, but, Jim decided, there was an "undeniable pleasure" connected with seeing Bones work his jaw and find himself quite unable to shut his mouth.

"They sleep a lot deeper than you'd think," he confided.

"You… Spock… I…."

"I'm still not crazy about your methods, mind," the captain teased, waggling a scolding finger at his friend. "But I don't think you need to resign over something that turned out so well."

Bones was bouncing up and down on his toes now, a familiar physical form of elation, and his smile reached up to his brilliant blue eyes. "We'll have to celebrate," he said at last, voice hoarse with an onslaught of emotion that would have won an entire tirade about logic from Spock. Glowing under his approval, Jim clapped him on the shoulder.

"When you've recovered, we will. Promise."

McCoy grasped his hand, elated that his adventuring friends had found the most elusive force in all galaxies out among the stars. "No surprises this time," he promised sheepishly before taking himself back to the corridor. Shaking his head, he fought to dim his smile. Knowing that happy laughter was going to burst from him periodically all day, he mentally prepared for the wondering glances of nurses and lab techs. A gentle spring in his step, he decided it was worth it – hangover hypospray and all.

End!


End file.
